


Blattella Germanica

by Ripplestitchskein



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 13:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10537416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ripplestitchskein/pseuds/Ripplestitchskein
Summary: A quick fix it fic set in a nebulous future after 6.15 where Emma and Killian have been reunited. A way to reconcile the events of those episodes in a way that doesn't retread old ground and helps better explain behavior.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gentlesleaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlesleaze/gifts).



> A belated B-Day gift for @gentlesleaze, that will hopefully mitigate some of the salt you received as a gift instead. Unbeta'd.

 

There was something to be said for reunion sex. Explosive tangles of lips and teeth and limbs. Aggressive clawing and slapping flesh, just all consuming  _ need _ , I miss you, I love you, I’m so happy you’re back. Saying with her body what she couldn't put into words, I’m sorry spoken in the rough tug of his hair, forgive me painted in teeth along his neck, I'm with you in the rough slide and rasp of skin on skin. 

 

Afterwards was harder. Sweat drying and breath calming and the words wouldn't come. Goodnight whispered into her hair, slow measured breaths as he gave into exhaustion. Her ring winking mockingly in the light of the moon through the window. 

 

“I love you.” 

 

____

 

“I thought you were getting lunch?” Emma looked up from the floor, files spread in a chaotic fan around her. He stood in the doorway awkwardly, his hands empty, his face just this side of strained.

 

“Uh,” he looked uncomfortable. “The Widow Lucas refused to serve me. Or rather, she refused to  _ look _ at me, and served those around me instead. I took the hint.”

 

“She what?” Emma stood, anger rising in her chest. 

 

“I imagine she still thinks I-” his voice pitched lower. “-”skipped town and left you high and dry” as Leroy so eloquently put it.” 

 

Emma’s stomach plummeted.

 

“Oh. I haven't talked to her yet,” guilt prickled uneasily along her scalp. 

 

“Quite all right, Swan,” the smile he flashed was fake, forced, his eyes focused somewhere near her nose. “I'll just get something at home. Probably better for my digestion anyway.” 

 

“Killian-” she stepped forward, wanting to apologize, to explain, but she still couldn't figure out where to start. Her ring mocked her in harsh fluorescents.

 

“I'll see you tonight,” his lips were cool against his cheek, the kiss perfunctory and without heat, a final flicker of uncertainty before he left the room. 

 

____

 

He left notes everywhere now. 

 

_ Out in the shed if you have need of me. _

 

_ Checking in on the Roger, be back in a few hours.  _

 

_ At the library with Belle, left word with Henry as well. _

 

A series of insecurities and unnecessary reassurances in college ruled paper and yellow Post Its. He didn't trust voicemail, he had his reasons. He didn't trust her reactions. He had his reasons for that as well. 

 

He told everyone else too. 

 

“Tell Emma I’m at the docks.”

 

“If Emma asks I went to the butcher’s.” 

 

Everyone else parroting back for her, confirming for her, every step of his day. 

 

She tried to tell him with kisses, lingering touches on his hand, his favorite foods. Nothing would banish the edge to his expression, the unease in his eyes. She had done that. 

 

She needed to fix it. 

 

“We need to talk.” 

 

Killian jumped, almost dropping the wooden dowel in his hand, a miniature ship coming together in tiny linen sails and balsa wood on their kitchen table, a kit he had found at the marina gift shop. A way to bide his time, fill the hours of his self imposed house arrest, doing everything he could to stay home, near her, never gone for more than an hour or two at a time. He looked at her face, raked his eyes across it, and frowned.

 

“Alright,” he set the dowel aside. 

 

His expression offered nothing. His face neutral. A man who had faced many an interrogations in his time and who knew that a winning grin and a wink wouldn't get him far with this one, better to go stoic.

 

Emma settled into the couch, and he took her cue, crossing the room to do the same. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Emma said finally. It wasn't what she wanted to say, not nearly enough, but it was as good a place to start as any. 

 

Killian sighed, exasperated.

 

“I told you Swan, you have nothing to apologize for. I allowed myself to get trapped on that ship. The fault is mine.” 

 

“I didn't trust you,” Emma blurted. Killian didn't respond, jaw ticking, looking off somewhere near her leg. 

 

“I thought you left,” she kept going. 

 

“Love, we’ve already sailed these waters. I don't see what possible purpose could be served by telling the tale again?”

 

“I just think we need to  _ talk _ about this. Let me apologize. You keep, I dunno, overcompensating. All these notes, everyone acting like they are my personal Killian Jones Tracking System. You don't have to keep  _ reassuring _ me you aren't going anywhere,” Emma snapped her mouth closed, that wasn’t the route she had intended to go. 

 

“I didn't want you to worry,” he said. 

 

“Trust me, you’re like one of those German roaches I  _ know _ you aren't leaving anytime soon.” 

 

“Did you just compare me to an  _ insect _ during your apology?” 

 

“I just, I know you won't leave. I just didn't trust it then,” she tried again. 

 

“I’m sorry love, but I find myself at a loss as to what I can do to _allow_ you trust me,” he smiled that pained smile, ran a hand through his hair, obviously beyond agitated now. This wasn't going how she’d planned _at_ _all_. 

 

“How I can prove to you that I'm  _ not _ going away. Not ever. I have enough crimes on my ledger, Swan, without paying for everyone else's as well.” 

 

“It's not about that,” Emma shook her head. “I know you wouldn't, I know you didn’t. Deep down I always knew.” 

 

Killian stared at her for a moment, completely baffled. 

 

“Then why,” he said lowly. “Have I been apologizing to everyone in this  _ blood _ y town for a week? Why did you let  _ them _ believe I did? Your whole family?” 

 

Emma held up her hand, the ring heavy on her finger, rubbing against her skin. 

 

“Because of this,” she said softly. “I wasn't... ready.” 

 

If possible he looked even worse, his face twisting from agitated frustration to hurt before her eyes. This was not going well at all. 

 

“You  _ asked _ me, to ask you,”  He reminded her, his voice shaking a bit, words careful and slow, whether for anger or anguish she couldn't tell. “Twice, as I recall.” 

 

“I know, I know,” Emma reached forward, grabbing his hand, needing to touch him. “And I wanted you to. Both times.” 

 

“I'm sorry Swan, I don't understand,” he shook his head, his tongue pressing to the corner of his mouth. Anger then. “If you wanted me to ask you then  _ why _ -”

 

“Just shut up for a second and I'll tell you,” the words were softly said, no heat, and he drew his tongue in his mouth, pointedly closing it.

 

“When Walsh asked me, I was going to say yes, I would have, if it wasn't for the whole, you know, monkey thing.”

 

Killian set his jaw, looking away again. She gave his hand a squeeze, forced herself to continue.

 

“But it wouldn't have lasted. I would have found a reason, any reason to push him away, to call it off. I know I would have. He’d buy me the wrong kind of deodorant or he’d forget I’m allergic to peppers, and I would have thrown it away. Pretended he couldn't possibly  _ know _ me, that it would never work.” 

 

“I know you’re allergic to peppers,” Killian said shortly. It made her smile despite the thread of anger in his voice. 

 

“I know,” she said softly. “You’re very attentive to my anti hot sauce needs on taco night.” 

 

He didn't smile, but she squeezed his hand again anyway. 

 

“But that's just it,” Emma said. “It didn't matter that you knew that. Marriage is….” she stopped. “It's  _ forever.” _

 

_ “ _ I thought that was rather the point of it,” he bit out. 

 

“But it's terrifying,” Emma said. “All those years, stretching on  _ forever _ , having to trust someone will stand by you for the rest of your lives?” 

 

He sighed, closed his eyes, and nodded.

 

“So I grabbed the first opportunity I saw, the first sign that this wasn't going to work out because I was  _ scared _ that it would,” she shifted closer, his leg hot against her own. “Or that it would for a while, and some day down the road, one of us would get mad or we’d have a fight and things would get rough. Marriage isn't  _ easy _ Killian.”

 

“So a preemptive strike then?” he said dully.

 

“Yeah I guess,” Emma shrugged. “I just wanted a reason. Any reason. And then you were gone, and the ring was gone, and it was easier to believe it was  _ you _ , then face that I was afraid that it wasn't. That it was  _ me.”  _

 

“We don't have to get married Swan,” he said softly. “I'll be here, if we’re wed or not.” 

 

“I know,” she said softly, smiling. “I know you will. But the reason I wanted you to ask me  _ again,  _ was because I  _ am _ ready now.  I faced that fear. You were gone, my worst nightmare, we were engaged and you were gone, and then you proved to me that I was  _ wrong, _ that all my doubts and fears are  _ wrong.  _ I thought I had the perfect reason to push you away, a valid reason, even though I  _ knew  _ you couldn't do that. And then you came back,” she laid her head on his shoulder, breathing him in. “And I knew you always would, no matter what, you always come back. Ring or not, married or not, you always come back.” 

 

“Like an insect,” she could feel him smile as he pressed his lips to her hair.

 

“German cockroach,” she whispered, leaning into him. “They are _a_ _bitch_ to get rid of.” 

 

“Survivors then?” he said softly. 

 

“Oh yeah. Nothing takes those suckers out,” she felt his arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer. She closed her eyes. 

 

“I'm so sorry, Killian. And I'll explain  _ everything _ , to everyone. The whole town will know. We’ll have a town wide meeting.” 

 

“Seems like a gross abuse of power Sheriff,” he laughed against her hair. “Why don't we just invite them to the wedding instead?” 

 

“Okay,” she smiled. “We can do that.” 

 

“Except Leroy,” he amended. “Let's say his invitation got lost in the post, shall we?”

 

_____


End file.
